“What are you reading?” I ask.
She looks at me, pulling her headphones down so they hang around her neck. “What did you say?”
“What are you reading?” I repeat.
“Notes on today. I have a new personal secretary, and he’s been helping me prepare for everything we’re going to be doing on this tour. His name is Damian and he’s efficiency itself. He gave me a full itinerary for the next couple of weeks.”
“We should compare notes. It could be that we’ve missed something.”
“We’re going to a children’s hospital today,” she says, flipping back to another page.
“Indeed. It’s much like the one in Elkevik.” I clear my throat, suddenly aware of how earnest I sound.
“Oh! They’re really quite remarkable at Lysoria General Hospital. I’ve been reading my notes from Damian. They have a large children’s wing, and they treat everything from cancer to other complex conditions.”
“I’ve been there a number of times in the past. It’s one of the places that’s close to my heart.”
“That’s wonderful!” She’s watching me with interest now, her impossibly blue eyes focused solely on me. I want to fidget.
How does shedothis to me?
I’m a grown man and yet she reduces me to short, clipped sentences that sound formal and disconnected, even to my own ears.
“We should hold hands when we arrive,” I say.
Her brows raise. “If you say so.”
There’s a beat of silence between us that can only be described as awkward.
“How did you like the mixtape?” she asks.
I think of the tape with her handwritten title:For Fred, Love Asti. I had cracked the case open and pulled out the tape only to slot it back inside once more. “I haven’t had the time to listen to it yet,” I reply.
Her pretty face drops. “Not even the first song?”
“I’ll listen to it when I have the time.”
The truth is, I brought the tape with me on this trip, along with the Walkman I usually listen to classical music on as I run. Even though I’m certain I won’t like Astrid’s taste in music, I’m a man of my word. If I said I will listen to it, I will.
She shrugs, her face impassive, and I wonder if my words have stung. “No hurry,” she replies before she slips her headphones back on and returns her attention to her notes.
A short while later, with what feels like a loaded silence stretching between us, we arrive at the hospital, and as the doors open for us to exit the Crown vehicle, I take Astrid’s hand in mine as planned.
Her smile, usually so unguarded and genuine, doesn’t reach her eyes.
The crowd around us cheers, just as I hoped they would. On impulse, I give her hand a small squeeze and her eyes dart to mine. It’s very unlike me, but it feels like the right thing to do.
Weareon a PR mission, after all.
We make our way up the steps, where we’re greeted by various hospital officials, including several I’ve met in the past.
“Your Royal Highness, how wonderful to have you here,” Mrs. Castle, the hospital administrator, says as she dips into a curtsy.
“Mrs. Castle, so nice to see you again,” I say, shaking her hand. “May I introduce my fiancée, Princess Astrid of Elkevik.”
“Your Royal Highness,” Mrs. Castle says, curtsying again.
“It’s so wonderful to meet you, Mrs. Castle. I’ve been reading all about your hospital and the incredible things you do for the children.” Astrid clasps the woman’s hands in both of hers.
